Preteen Dream
by CryTheStars
Summary: She's twelve year old pop star sensation Cecile. She's loved by girls and boys alike for her talent, as well as her appearance. But appearances aren't everything, and no one knows that better than Arnold, who is utterly surprised to find his fake French pen pal performing in his hometown...


_Disclaimer: Don't own Hey Arnold! Or any of the songs used in this story. All rights belong to their respective owners, writers, etc. snap snap. I make no money, soley for entertainment, all that jazz. The picture is from deviantart user: mery1984_

_A/N: I know I said I would finish at least one other story before starting a new one, but I can't help all these ideas. Got this idea while listening to some random pop song. Lol. And I do so love Cecile…Also a first attempt at a first person. Hope you enjoy _

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**Preteen Dream**

_prologue_

I stood behind the curtains of the auditorium stage listening to my dimwitted classmates prattle on about the most stupid dribble ever. I realized that I was gritting my teeth, a terrible habit of mine when that agitation started to eat at me, and I turned away from it, inwardly cursing how everything had come to this point.

My hair was annoyingly in my one eye; another thing that I found to be rather irritating. But I couldn't fix it. My hair had to be down, out of my usual pigtails, so that I could conceal my identity.

Almost as if on cue, like my utter irritation couldn't get any worse, I heard the high pitched squeal of my manager as she bounced up to me, like some froo froo crack addled princess. I growled.

"Cecile, sweetie, you're on in five. Are you ready?"

I turned a delightfully sweet smile in her direction, and with as much sugary sweetness as I could possibly muster in my voice, answered affirmatively.

"Of course, Cass. When am I ever not ready?" I think I said something like that. I was too inwardly fuming to remember for sure.

It must've been sufficient, considering she smiled at me, flicked her wrist up in the air as if dismissing me ( _what the heck is even with that?_ ) and then pranced off, her mop of bleached blonde, overly hair sprayed curls bouncing against her back. Ugh. She was a disgusting creature, but I put up with it..for the most part.

Returning to the pressing matter at hand, I looked back to the curtains, knowing well that everyone I spent all twelve years of my horribly depressing life with were on the other side, all eagerly awaiting their idol.

In actuality, the fact that I had Rhonda Lloyd practically falling all over me was a very, very satisfying feeling. It's too bad it was a mask she was practically in love with. But for the moment, I delighted in having that stuck up little snotrag worship me. The fact that I could, if I so chose to, raise her up with a single word or gesture, and then send that pretty little face smashing into the ground with my disapproval was something I would keep in my back pocket, awaiting to use it with utmost anticipation.

And Lila. Hah. I mean, let's be real here. The boys aren't exactly into this music, heck, it's not like_ I_ am that much either. But at this age, I've noticed some heads have been turning in my direction, ever since I returned to my, what I like to declare, my alternate personality. Looks like Lila's not going to be the only bit of eye candy in Hillwood's school district anymore. Hahah I practically have every stupid male swooning, that includes the stupid Football head.

But Arnold knew me already, er, I mean he knew _Cecile_. He had shared an intimate dinner with her when she came to visit him from France..supposedly. Hehheh. I can't help but wonder if he tried to garner respect from his peers by using her name. Nah, that's not his style. I would know. You know..Being obsessed with the boy and all.

I knew I was thinking much too much about my stupid, idiotic, blind classmates and less about the more important matters at hand, like how I continually had to live out this charade ever since.._that_ day.

I don't really know how it happened, honestly. One minute I was spouting my love for Arnold alone in an alley, the next there was Brainy again, just _wheezing_ away creepy as ever in a garbage can and _watching_ me. I gave him one good punch right in the eye again, and BAM, back in 's office for another therapy session.

I actually love . She has come to be one of the few anchoring adults in my life who I have absolutely no qualms about confessing anything to. After all, she had kept my secret about Arnold, and that is undoubtedly my biggest, most embarrassing i'll-kill-if-you-spill sort of secret. So she's OK in my book. And I trust her judgment.

But this..

Okay so it's not completely out of left field. I mean..we discussed my potential for acting given the few school plays, and the babewatch episode, and my school comedy act and determined I liked putting on a show ( as if that wasn't obvious already hehehheh) And I might've admitted, albeit reluctantly that sometimes I liked to sing along to showtunes, and whatever catchy song was on the radio…maybe..

And maybe Brainy's parents were dangerously close to pressing charges, or something along that nature, I don't even know, nor care. I was surprised the little weasel even told them. I always got the vibe that he kind of liked me too. Who knows, maybe they just suspected it, and assumed it was me. I _do_ kind of have that sort of reputation among my idiot peers, I suppose.

Okay so I ended up with community service. Big damn deal. And it's so weird how they do it now too. They stuck me in this group with a bunch of other "troubled kids" who all liked to act. It was like some drama club or something, and we traveled around to old people's nursing homes and crud and acted out scenes from their favorite old movies, and sitcoms, and other such idiotic things.

Then, the head of it, an obnoxiously grandmotherly woman, wanted us to all try _musical_ theater. And actually, all those other idiotic, geek bait kids were not half bad. It's like in their troubled state they all had this creative musical theater nerd just bursting to escape. In hindsight, I guess I was no different.

But I would find, that I actually was, as amusing as it is to think of it.

When Cassidy approached me, after one of those stupid shows for that stupid bunch of old people, I noticed right away she looked familiar, then she dropped the name on me and I almost keeled over in disgust.

"Cassidy Stitches." She spoke the name with an over inflated sense of importance that made me want to sock her right in the eye, and then in the other one. "Star searcher extraordinaire." She was a manager, looking for new _young_ talent to sign on to her label. Right then and there, I knew where I knew her, or rather, her relative.

But I asked her anyway, for good measure, and the smirk she gave me only added to my fury.

"That's right. I'm Johnny Stitches sister."

_Hiss_. It brought me back alright. Back to a time I'd rather forget, when everyone lost their mind and wanted to be like me..even though they would only ever get so far as the dress and the bow. No one could ever pull off me as well as me..obviously. And it was all that loud mouth blow hard's fault for choosing to make me a spectacle.

"Are you not good enough to be a grown up manager?" I remember asking _her_, a similar question I had shot at when we were first acquainted, once she had made it apparent that she thought I could really make something of myself in the _pop_ music world.

That disgustingly knowing smirk as she told me her job was to find talented teens made my stomach turn and made me want to vomit on those pretty little designer shoes. I nearly did.

The rest is pretty much history. I'll admit, I was drawn in with the promise of free stuff and money, but I made it blatantly clear to Cassidy Stitches that it would be a cold day in Hell before _Helga G Pataki_ became a pop idol for a bunch of sniveling preteens.

_RE_ enter Cecile, with her long, loose flowing blond hair, cute little pink outfits, and her sweetly innocent, precocious personality..and her totally killer singing voice. Heheheh.

And here we are, sort of.

Actually it isn't why I'm _here_ at the moment, in my _own_ school, standing behind the auditorium curtains about to go on and perform for my classmates as well as the rest of PS 118 while donning my fake identity.

_That_ in itself is an entirely different, and utterly embarrassing story. But I guess in order to get to _that_ point we should rewind a few days and start at the very beginning...


End file.
